


golden

by sugaxyy (SwAgAmAnDeR)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coffee Shops, Crimes & Criminals, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwAgAmAnDeR/pseuds/sugaxyy
Summary: Kuroo is handling his career with Nekoma, one of Tokyo’s underground crime organizations, pretty well, all things considered.And then, because Kuroo’s life can never go according to plan, their old tech person skips town.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 9
Kudos: 92
Collections: Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020





	golden

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the kuroken xmas gift exchange for [blastycatt](https://twitter.com/BlastyCatt)!! this was so much fun to write, i hope you enjoy it!!! i do apologize for the length, kuroken have a mind of their own sometimes....
> 
> there is a smidge of smut. if that is not your thing, you can skip the portion of the fic which is in all italics!
> 
> title is from the harry styles song of the same name.
> 
> also, i know it seems like a coffee shop au, but dont worry, it is in fact a crime au :)

Kuroo Tetsurou hated this job. Everyone in his life knew this to be true on account of the fact Kuroo would never shut up about just how much he hated this job. He had a running list:

For starters, there was the damned espresso machine. He seemed to be the only employee at Mame that actually followed through with cleaning the disgusting thing, so it was his special treat to scrape the caked espresso powder from its various parts. It was sour-smelling and dusty and left Kuroo smelling like burnt coffee even after scrubbing his body in the shower.

Then there were his coworkers. Kuroo was fairly sure that he was the oldest person on the team. As degrading as it were to be an adult working at a minimum wage job meant for teenagers, it became much worse when he repeatedly walked in on his coworkers sucking each other’s faces off in the supply hallway. No one, Kuroo incessantly assured whoever it was who had the misfortune of bringing up his day job in a conversation, wanted to be at Mame, so why should Kuroo be stuck actually working while the couple of the week humped next to the vinyl gloves like bunny rabbits? It was beyond him. He wouldn’t be surprised if the health department walked in one day stating Mame had become the STD epicenter of Japan. Preventative posters would do nothing to stop them. It was simply a matter of life at good ol’ Mame.

The preventative posters were courtesy of his boss, of course, who had spot number three on The List. She was a nice woman, sure, and always sent Kuroo home with a handwritten card come Christmas time, but dear god, the woman couldn’t be assertive to save her life. Teenagers fucking on the clock? A poster stating, “We’re happy you can find romance here at Mame! Please enjoy your dates outside of business hours!”. Kuroo constantly picking up the slack of his underaged coworkers? There was a neatly written post-it note placed onto the breakroom table stating, “Please remember: Teamwork makes the Dream Work! Let’s all help each other during our shifts!”. Kuroo would be surprised if even one other person read it. Customers complaining that their cappuccino with whole milk wasn’t dairy-free? A full refund, one hundred percent of the time.

This point neatly allowed Kuroo to segue into number four on The List: the customers. Despite the hundreds of thousands of yen that the Japanese government had spent on developing a comprehensive core education for the Japanese public, there were a few missing pieces. For example: milk is a dairy product. Soy is a non-dairy product. Seasonal items are not available year-round, and no, we cannot just “make them”. Inserting your credit card into a card reader will not “give away your identity”, and in fact, you won’t be able to pay for your coffee unless you do that, sir, since you said you don’t have any coins with you. There were never the screaming tyrants that Kuroo saw all too often on American series. His customers would just smile at him with their complaint and bow slightly, and oh, how that pissed Kuroo off even more.

Number five on The List (and the final point on the condensed version) were the hours. Kuroo closed. It was how he was hired on and how he would probably continue to work until he one day got the chance to quit. Granted, Kuroo was fully aware of the fact that he should feel a bit lucky. He didn’t have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn to open, and the shop wondrously closed at one in the afternoon on weekends, meaning he had infinitely free Saturday and Sunday nights. At least, free from Mame.

Regardless, though, Kuroo never understood, and never would understand, why the fuck a coffee shop needed to stay open until midnight. The only people who came in to get a double shot espresso at eleven-thirty at night on a Tuesday clearly had some issues in their lives. Pleasantly, most of the city seemed to have a pretty good grasp on life, since on most nights there were only a handful of people who came in past eight. If Kuroo was lucky, he could start cleaning the espresso machine at seven forty-five and sit on his phone for the final hours of his shift.

On one cool April Wednesday, he was not lucky. He inwardly groaned as he heard the door chime. He glanced at his phone, seeing the time read eleven-forty-five p.m. Of _course_ someone would come in 15 minutes before they closed. He would have to reclean the machines now. So much for leaving early.

Kuroo didn’t bother hiding his phone under the counter like he normally did, half out of annoyance and half because the night crowd didn’t tend to care about that like daytime customers did.

He watched the customer approach the counter, unashamedly staring. All good manners went out the window when Kuroo had to stay late. The man was shorter and slimmer than Kuroo, donning a too-big black hoodie and casual sneakers. At first glance, he didn’t look like a crackhead, which Kuroo was appreciative of. Sometimes, when people came in this late, Kuroo ended up having to chase them out with a broom.

But no, this man looked entirely sane. He had long straw-blonde hair, fading to a deep brown at the roots, that was tied into a low bun. A few pieces were delicately taken out, framing his face. Kuroo thought distantly that it was a very flattering style for the man.

He approached the counter with confident strides. This was in clear contrast to his posture. He was hunched in on himself, not quite standing up straight. His hands were jammed into his pockets, and though he held his head high, his eyes were trained on the floor. Until, that is, he reached the counter.

He wasted no time looking straight up to meet Kuroo’s eyes. Kuroo felt himself shudder as he took in the piercing, golden bronze eyes. They held eye contact for a few moments, stuck in the silence of the empty shop. It took Kuroo a moment to realize that, despite the cockiness he had felt when the man walked in, _he_ was actually sizing Kuroo up. Calculating, like a hunter, waiting to see what his next move would be. It was intense, and the feeling of being watched slinked down Kuroo’s core and landed in a hot coil in his groin. He-

_No._ He reprimanded himself. This happened occasionally. _Lusting_ over customers whose names he didn’t even have. He tacked this aspect onto The List as number six, because _god_ , did his mind go weird places when it was late at night.

Kuroo cleared his throat. “What can I get for you?”

Despite his keen observing, the smaller man jumped. Kuroo’s chest swooned as it betrayed him. He had never seen someone such a mix of confidence and uncertainty. It was absolutely endearing.

“A red eye, please. Black. Medium. ” His voice was scratchy from disuse and he cleared it as he began to speak. The man’s eyes left Kuroo’s face and descended to his hands, which were tapping at the register in front of him. The man hadn’t so much as smiled the whole time he had been in the shop. He hadn’t frowned, either. _He has a cute nose_ , Kuroo thought to himself. _Very button-y._

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at the drink choice and internally balked. Not what he would expect from such a small person. Despite spending most of his evenings in a coffee shop, Kuroo hated coffee and refused to drink it unless it was diluted with an ungodly amount of milk and sugar. The smaller man’s eyes trailed back up to Kuroo’s face. He must have decided not to comment on the eyebrow.

“Name?” Kuroo asked after debating whether or not teasing him about the drink choice would be weird. He decided it would be. He picked up a medium paper cup and sidestepped to the freshly cleaned espresso machine.

“I’m the only one here.” The smaller man was the one to raise an eyebrow this time.

“Oh yeah.” Kuroo made a show of pretending to look around the shop as if he had just now realized.

The smaller man’s eyebrows flattened into a glare. Kuroo smirked and began making the man’s drink. This guy wasn’t half bad for a late-night customer. He was cute, and he actually was responsive to Kuroo’s Kuroo-ness.

Kuroo slid the finished drink across the counter. The smaller man had been watching him the whole time, watching him slink through the bar from machine to machine. If he meant to be discrete, he did a poor job of it. Kuroo definitely noticed, and it left that same hot coil in his gut.

“How much?” the man asked, taking the cup in one hand and beginning to root around in his pockets with the other.

“On the house.” Kuroo waved a hand and smirked again. It was late, anyway.

The smaller man met his eyes again, leaving Kuroo frozen in place. His entire body felt like it was a live wire just from the eye contact. _God, I need to get out more_. His hand twitched on the counter.

The smaller man broke the eye contact, eyes flitting to the sudden movement. Kuroo breathed out. Then, he met his eyes again. “Thanks,” the smaller man said, his voice quiet and assertive. Kuroo thought he might combust.

The man turned and started on his way out. Kuroo opened his mouth to say something stupid, to get a chance to hear that quiet, scratchy voice again, and-

A phone, the grey flip phone he kept in his apron, let out an obnoxious screech. He glanced down at his smartphone on the counter, praying his ears deceived him. The screen was black. Nope, it really was his work phone. The one for his other job, at least. He dug it out of his apron and opened it.

Black letters on a muted yellow screen read:

NEW MESSAGE FROM: UNKNOWN NUMBER

<OPEN> <CLOSE>

Kuroo opened the message.

NEW JOB AT 1 AM WITH LEV. MEET AT NEKOMA. BRING YOUR NEGOTIATION SKILLS. AND A GUN. :)

Kuroo looked up from his phone. The man was already gone. He must have missed the door chime with the auditory assault of his work phone.

Kuroo groaned, audibly this time.

Kuroo hated _both_ of his jobs.

* * *

Kuroo had to wear a long-sleeved shirt under his apron the next day. People loved to rough up a conman. Lev assured him it was because he was intimidating. Yaku said it was because his shit-eating grin was too obnoxious.

Whatever the reason, Kuroo could go without people deciding to smack him with metal weaponry as he tried to butter them up. _Loaded_ metal weaponry.

His bruises lasted through Friday. His coworkers didn’t look up from their slurry of hormones long enough to notice the change. He thinks his boss might have, judging by the new “Friendly Dress Code Reminders!” poster in the break room.

By the time the rest of the team left on Monday, he was grumpy and itchy and ready to get out of the thick, black wool sweater he had borrowed from Bokuto.

By the time eleven-thirty rolled around, he was at his limit. _People barely ever come in this late_ , he rationalized desperately as he untied his apron. _If someone does waltz in here in the next thirty minutes, I’ll just tell them we’re closed._ Kuroo slid the sweater over his head, leaving only a loose white tank top underneath. He tied his apron back on, chuckling to himself as he realized that due to the cut of the tank top, it looked like he was shirtless under the apron.

The next thirty minutes passed slowly, mostly due to his anxiety that someone would walk through the door. He was a conman, a criminal, sure, but not a voyeur. He was passing the time scrolling through an Instagram page with cat memes that Bokuto had sent him when he heard the door chime. It was a nice page-

Wait- _Shit_. The door chimed.

Kuroo’s brain screamed many things at him at once. _TellThemToLeaveYellAtThemDropYourPhoneRunToTheBackRunOutOfTheStoreDuckUnderTheCounterDropToTheGroundPutTheSweaterBackOn_

Kuroo did none of those things. Stiff as a board, he slowly turned his neck towards the sound. His eyes met a familiar golden bronze pair. _Shit_. He chose to not acknowledge the other man at all. He simply turned his neck back to look straight again.

Kuroo’s face burned with embarrassment. The other man didn’t move or say anything, and Kuroo thought for a moment that maybe he was just going to turn right back around and leave, but then there was the quiet sound of sneakers hitting the tile, drawing closer and closer to the counter where Kuroo stood.

“Hey,” Kuroo said shortly once he knew the man was in front of him. He stared at the ceiling, refusing to meet the blonde’s eyes.

“Hey.”

“Medium red eye, black?” Kuroo tried to put on the most casual face he could muster.

“Yeah,” the smaller man said quietly. Kuroo couldn’t judge his emotions from his voice, so he risked looking down and- _Oh god, why did he do that_? Kuroo’s own face lit up to an even brighter red when he saw that not only was the smaller man blushing himself, but his eyes were trained on Kuroo’s exposed biceps.

Kuroo was never one for vanity, but he knew that if he were to call himself muscular, no one would disagree with him. However, at the moment his arms were also littered with ugly, purple bruises.

Kuroo turned quickly in case the blonde decided to look up and see his beet-red face. He quickly began making the man’s drink, praying that this moment would be over quickly so he could go home and cry to his cat, Hime.

“I didn’t know this place had new uniforms,” the smaller man said suddenly behind his back. Kuroo prayed he was joking but honestly couldn’t tell from his deadpan. At the very least, he didn’t comment on the bruises. Kuroo was eternally grateful for that.

Kuroo laughed boisterously, too loudly, clearly trying to compensate for his nerves. The jerky movement sent the liquid in his hand over the brim of his cup and onto his skin. Kuroo hissed in pain for a moment before sheepishly turning back around to grab a new cup for a new drink. He was a mess and he wanted to go home. Having a cute late-night customer was fun until he started to make a fool of himself in front of said customer. He even thought he saw the blonde smiling out of the corner of his eye. It could have been the light.

“It’s a long story,” Kuroo sighed.

The smaller man hummed in acknowledgment.

“I, uh, didn’t know you had a death wish,” Kuroo teased now that the conversation barrier had been broken. His cheeks still burned red. “Drinking a near-lethal dose of caffeine this late.”

“New project,” the man said. Kuroo watched the espresso machine whir as it tried to keep up with his abuse.

“You’re a student, then?”

“Freelancer.”

“So artist, then?”

“No.”

“Author?”

“No.”

“Architect?”

“No.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a… ‘ _model_ ’.” Kuroo turned around to finally look at the man, using air quotes. He smirked despite his still faint blush.

The smaller man sighed, exasperated. “I do IT stuff.”

“You didn’t say no.” Kuroo pointed at the man as walked over to grab a lid for the coffee. He felt his embarrassment starting to fade as he fell into a sort of natural chemistry with the man. It was nice.

“No…” The smaller man narrowed his eyes at Kuroo’s apron as he carried his drink towards him. “… _Kuro_ , I do not do porn.”

“Darn,” Kuroo pouted jokingly. “And it’s Kuro-o.” He pointed at the character.

“Sorry, Kuro.”

“And it’s kind of creepy that you just get to come in here late at night and know my name but you won’t even tell me yours.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Kuroo’s jaw dropped. “Yes, I did! On Wednesday.”

“That was for the drink.”

“It was dual-purpose.”

“Kenma.”

“Kenma-san?” Kuroo smirked as he tried the name out in his mouth.

“Just Kenma.” He reached out for the coffee that Kuroo held in his hands. “No honorifics, please.”

“A bit personal for a coffee shop employee?”

“I find them stupid in general. Don’t feel special.” Kenma looked pointedly down. As he grabbed the coffee out of Kuroo’s hand, their fingers brushed. It sent a jolt of electricity down Kuroo’s spine that reminded him exactly how exposed his upper body was at the moment.

Something imperceptible crossed Kenma’s face that almost looked like a small smile. Kuroo was sure his face was beet-red again. He also vaguely wondered what he would have to do to make Kenma smile again.

Kenma left Kuroo dumbstruck without another word, too speechless to even say goodbye.

He checked the time. Twenty minutes past midnight, already passed the time when Nekoma would have texted him with any jobs. He was glad he got to go home early for once.

* * *

_Kuroo looked up at Kenma from where he was positioned between his legs. Kenma was on his back, legs spread wide, head lolled back in bliss. His pale skin glowed in the low morning light._

_Kuroo already had two fingers inside the man, thrusting in and out of his tight hole slowly and methodically. Kenma’s shallow breaths were peppered with scratchy moans each time Kuroo’s fingers reached their hilt. He experimentally curled his fingers, and Kenma reacted immediately, nearly convulsing in front of him as he let out a loud moan and slammed himself down harder onto Kuroo’s fingers._

_Kuroo let out a hot laugh as he watched the show in front of him. Kenma was hot, and Kuroo’s own cock pounded in his boxers, demanding attention. He obliged, palming himself with his right hand while slowly fucking Kenma’s hole with his left, gently curling his fingers every few thrusts._

_Kuroo let out a moan of his own, rattling deep in his chest, and shakily exhaled. Kenma was literally trembling in front of him, face blushed red, long fingers desperately grasping the bedsheets. His eyebrows were scrunched up towards his hairline and his jaw was slack, breathy moans freely leaving his lips._

_"Kuro.” Kenma’s cock twitched as the Kuroo’s hot breath dusted his skin. Kuroo debated vaguely what sounds the man would make if he were to take him into his mouth right now. He looked up instead and met Kenma’s golden eyes, half-lidded with lust. Kuroo’s dick throbbed with want. Another day._

_“Kuro,” Kenma moaned again, more desperate, as Kuroo curled his fingers once again. He broke the eye contact to throw his head back and moan, “Please, Kuro, fuck me.”_

_Kuroo’s brain short-circuited at that, but his cock definitely heard Kenma’s demand. It twitched under his hand. “Already?”_

_Kenma nodded, eyes locked with Kuroo’s again. “I’m ready.”_

_Kuroo scissored his fingers inside Kenma’s hole one last time, eliciting a low moan, before removing them and crawling so he was over Kenma. He was naked now –_ When did I get naked? Don’t question it, Kuroo _– and Kuroo lined up his cock with Kenma’s hole with trembling hands. His golden eyes were on Kuroo, scanning his toned body up and down. It made Kuroo’s skin feel hot and flushed._

_“Are you sure you’re ready?” Kuroo pressed again. Surely that wasn’t enough time for Kenma to-_

_“Kuro.” Kenma pulled his legs, which were spread open in a V, closer to his ears for effect. “Fuck me.”_

_Kuroo’s brain went silent, absolutely short-circuited at the sight in front of him. Maybe he should make a witty comment, something about Kenma being demanding, but he couldn’t. He simply pressed forward against Kenma’s tight muscle. It resisted at first, and Kuroo was about to pull away to insist that Kenma needed to be stretched more when suddenly his warm hole engulfed Kuroo’s tip._

_Kuroo let out an involuntary moan at the warm, tight sensation. He was certain he was going to die by the end of this. Death by Kenma. What a way to go._

_"Kuro,” Kenma’s head was thrown back, his cheeks a rosy pink as he panted Kuroo’s name. “M-more.”_

_Kuroo obliged, rocking his hips forward slowly, pushing deeper into Kenma with each thrust. The feeling was all-encompassing, warm and tight and so good. Kenma’s pulsed around him with each breathy moan, and soon Kuroo’s involuntary moans filled the room as well._

_Kuroo felt the tight heat in his groin grow even more intense, and he thrust harder into Kenma, holding onto his legs for leverage. Kuroo shuddered, and the slight change of position caused Kenma’s already shallow breath to hitch._

_“Oh god, Kuro,” He moaned, hands grasping into the fabric of the sheets once again. “Right fucking there.”_

_Kuroo held him in place and thrust into that spot harder and faster. Watching Kenma come undone in front of him, by him, was too much- It was too much and-_

_"Kenma,” Kuroo panted, “Kenma, I’m going to-“_

_"Please, Kuro,” Kenma moaned his name one final time, “Come inside me.”_

_He looked up to meet Kuroo’s eyes, and that was it. Kuroo’s hips stuttered once, twice, as he released into Kenma’s tight hole. Exhausted, he slowly removed himself from Kenma and flopped down next to him, eyes fluttering shut. He had every intention of helping Kenma in a second, it was just- too much right now._

He peeked an eye open to see why Kenma was so quiet all of the sudden and- oh. Kenma wasn’t there. Kuroo was in bed by himself. In fact, as he groggily peered around him, this was a different room from before – _his_ room. In Kuroo’s apartment. Where he lived alone.

“Of course.” Kuroo groaned to no one in particular. A dream, because evidently, Kuroo had the hormones of a fifteen-year-old. That explained the less than safe sex practices. And a lot of things about the situation, actually.

He rolled over to grab his phone from where it sat plugged in on the floor next to the bed (Kuroo wasn’t put-together enough for a nightstand) and grimaced at the new wetness in his boxers. He needed to take care of that first.

His body still ached from the Nekoma job the other night as he got up and hobbled to his bathroom. He looked in the mirror. His hair was a mess and his eye bags were getting worse. _And,_ he was a twenty-three-year-old who just had a wet dream about a near stranger. He was a catch, really.

A fit of pounding from his front door startled him, making him nearly stab the back of his throat with his toothbrush. He let out an annoyed huff as he spit out the froth.

S _aturday morning? Really?_ he thought to himself.

He at least decided to change his boxers, wiping up the remnants of his dream with the dirty pair, before trekking to his front door. No need to be modest. He knew who it was. The pounding hadn’t stopped.

Kuroo unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

“Tetsu!” Bokuto Koutarou stood before him, equipped with a million-watt grin and a bag of what Kuroo hoped were donut holes as if it had been years since they last saw each other. In reality, it had been two days.

“Bo, I love you, but what are you doing at my apartment this early on a Saturday?” Kuroo tried to act gruff and failed, his trademark smirk finding its way onto his face regardless.

“Oh come on, Kuroo, it’s only nine.“ Bokuto’s grin dropped and his nose scrunched suddenly. He sniffed dramatically. “You stink.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes and snatched the bag – they were, indeed, donut holes – from Bokuto’s hands. “When you show up before I shower, I stink.”

Bokuto scrunched his nose up further and pinched it shut.

“You’re a real comedian, Bo.” Kuroo left the doorway and began towards the bathroom again. He grabbed a large handful of donut holes and left the bag on the coffee table in front of his TV. “I’ll be quick in the shower. There’s orange juice in the fridge if you want some.”

He heard Bokuto happily scurry to the kitchen, whistling a tune as he went. Kuroo closed the bathroom door and turned the shower on. He knew that when he got out, a lot more would be missing from his kitchen than orange juice.

* * *

“So, Konoha and I were just driving back towards Fukurodani, grumpy as _fuck_ that we lost the guy, when we look over to our left and guess who we see sitting in the taxi next to us?” Bokuto sat on Kuroo’s couch, gesturing wildly. The TV had been thrown on as background noise but neither of them were watching.

Bokuto had somehow drunk Kuroo’s entire half-gallon of orange juice while Kuroo was getting ready, leaving Kuroo with water. He took a sip from where he sat on the couch next to him. “The guy?”

" _The guy!_ ” Bokuto exclaimed loudly, throwing his arms up. Hime didn’t even startle from where she sat curled in his lap. She was used to his antics, perhaps even fond of them. “He didn’t even try to put on a hat or something, so we knew it was him. I think he tried to get the driver to speed up when he saw us, but guess who the driver was?”

“Who?” Kuroo grinned, humoring his friend.

“ _Chinen-san!_ ” Bokuto threw his arms up once again, this time startling Hime only because one of them managed to smack her in the jaw. Bokuto’s face dropped and he leaned his face down to coo words of apology in her ear as he gave her many pets.

“I know Chinen-san.” He was a middle-aged, reserved man who drove Nekoma’s members (and evidently Fukorodani’s) to and from jobs sometimes. His car always smelled of lilac and there was a small photo of a little girl wearing a Shin-chan shirt clipped to his sun visor.

“Exactly!” Bokuto enthused as he rubbed his cheek against Hime’s coat. “He recognized us immediately and pulled over behind the Sakai Ramen, so we ended up getting the guy after all!”

Kuroo knew the ramen shop, too. Great tasting ramen, and the staff were great at keeping quiet about Tokyo’s crime happenings, especially when financial incentive was involved. “That’s great, bro.”

“It really was, bro. I wish we could do jobs together.” Bokuto pouted. “Come to Fukurodani-i-i-i.”

Kuroo laughed. “We’ve had this talk, Bo.” It wasn’t that Kuroo had any issue with Fukorodani. Kuroo actually got along quite well with all of Fukurodani’s members. It was just a loyalty issue and the fact that he didn’t want to throw away the seniority he had gained with both Nekomata-sensei and the other members of Nekoma.

“I know.” Bokuto had stopped coddling Hime, and she began headbutting him in protest. He quickly obliged with more pets and scratches. “At least come out with us tonight.”

“Bo,“ Kuroo groaned, melting into the couch dramatically. “I work almost every night and then you want me to go out on my one night off.”

“It’s not my fault you work at that coffee shop.” Bokuto rolled his eyes, a grin on his face.

Kuroo scoffed, “Even if I didn’t, I’d be out with Nekoma most nights.”

Bokuto ignored that, clinging to the part of the conversation he thought would be most entertaining. “Why do you work there anyway? I know Nekoma pays well. Maybe not as well as Fukurodani, but-”

“Taxes, Bo, taxes.” Kuroo looked at him astounded. “Where does the government think you get all your money from?”

“Akaashi handles all that stuff.” Bokuto grinned his million-watt grin.

“Of course he does.”

“He does it for all of Fukurodani, actually. All the more reason you should join us.” Bokuto batted his eyelashes.

“On top of the same reasons I’ve already brought up three times this morning,” Kuroo deadpanned, “Nekoma just lost our tech person and we’re kind of in shambles. So even if I wanted to, I couldn’t just run off right now.”

“Lost?” Bokuto perked up, once again attaching himself to the part of the conversation he found most interesting.

“He took a private job to try and find the Guess Monster.”

Bokuto’s jaw dropped, speechless for the first time all morning. 

“ _Yeah._ Unsurprisingly, he skipped town last week. Nekomata-sensei says he found someone to take his place, but you know how high the turnover rate is with those types.”

“What’s his name?” Bokuto was now cradling Hime on her back how one would hold an infant.

“Kodzu-something.” Kuroo knew this guy probably wouldn’t stick around long. There were always guys like this, who knew Python or Java or something and thought that doing crime remotely would be a quick, easy buck. This wasn’t Death Note. Anonymity in Kuroo’s experience was equivalent to not taking things seriously.

“Never heard of him.” Bokuto cocked an eyebrow and glanced toward the ceiling in thought.

“Me neither.”

“Well.” Bokuto lightly placed Hime on the floor at his feet as he rose to stand. She glared at him. Oblivious, he beamed at Kuroo. “Mysterious tech guy or not, you’re coming with me, Akaashi, Komi, and Konoha tonight. We’ll even go to the place by Mame so you won’t be far from here.”

“I haven’t even heard from Nekoma if I have work tonight,” Kuroo laughed.

“You’re still on rest from Nekomata-sensei, right? Because of your arms?” Bokuto grinned even in the face of Kuroo’s bold-faced lie.

“I’ll see you at ten, Bo,” Kuroo chuckled, giving his friend a hug before walking him to the door.

Bokuto cheered, “Bro night!”

Kuroo shook his head, a grin on his face, as he closed the door.

Now, to find an outfit for the bar.

* * *

Hours later, Kuroo found himself standing inside Kōri, a dimly lit club that was currently filled with young Tokyoites, overplayed pop songs, and lots of cheap alcohol. True to Bokuto’s word, it was two blocks away from Mame, and therefore only a 20-minute walk to Kuroo’s apartment. The lack of commute played a large part in Kuroo's attendance on this particular night.

Over the years, Kuroo and Bokuto had been an unstoppable duo, blazing through Tokyo’s bar scene drunken night after drunken night. Bokuto could drink his weight in whiskey and become only slightly tipsy, and Kuroo was the master of party tricks. It was impossible for them to go out and not be the center of attention.

On this night, however, Kuroo instead found himself sitting at the bartop next to one Akaashi Keiji, comfortably nursing a mojito. The pair watched Bokuto buzz from person to person on the dance floor, using trial and error to find someone willing to dance with him. Kuroo had counted over a dozen rejections by now, some much nicer than others, but Bokuto, in true Bokuto fashion, didn’t let it phase him. He simply trekked on to the next person. The funny thing is that Bokuto didn’t even have sexual intentions. He genuinely wanted to meet new people and dance with them, but that fact was missed by most people.

On another night, Kuroo would probably be out there with him, trying to woo the ones who shooed Bokuto away. His apartment had met many new faces over the course of the BoKuroo Great Bar Conquest. Yet here he was, sat silently at the bar, tipsy off of mint rum. Akaashi noticed the change in behavior, to Kuroo’s dismay. He didn’t say as much, but Kuroo could see his questioning eyes flick from the man to the dance floor and back again, landing on Kuroo and staying there.

Kuroo inwardly grimaced. If he ever were going to leave Nekoma for Fukurodani (which he adamantly wasn’t), he wasn’t sure that he would be able to last long under the pressure of Akaashi’s all-knowing, ever-watching gaze. He figured the only reason Bokuto was able to deal with it was that he wasn’t observant enough to notice the added pressure in the first place.

“I’m surprised Bokuto convinced you to come tonight.” Kuroo was the first one to break the silence, which was always the case with Akaashi.

“I figured I should come and see if all of the wild escapades he tells us about are true.” Akaashi’s long pale fingers carefully unscrewed the cap to his bottled water. Kuroo vaguely wondered what type of person would ever bring bottled water to a bar. He decided the answer was, in fact, the type of person that is Akaashi Keiji. “Evidently, he may have been bluffing about your involvement.”

Kuroo laughed at that. Despite the jab, Akaashi’s face remained neutral. Kuroo wasn’t sure if he would ever find out if the man liked him or not. He was mostly sure that this was Akaashi’s form of teasing. Like, sixty-five percent sure. “You’re just upset you came all the way here and you don’t even have a chance of seeing what my bedroom ceiling looks like,” He purred, voice dropping half an octave.

_Oh, so this is the route we’re taking_ , Kuroo thought to himself as he heard the words leaving his mouth. Kuroo wasn’t interested in the, admittedly attractive, man in the slightest, but he only had two defense mechanisms: cleverly worded insults and poorly executed flirting. Flirting seemed like the one that would fluster Akaashi the most, so that is the route Kuroo’s panicked-must-keep-weird-one-sided-crush-on-a-customer-a-secret-at-all-costs brain chose on a dime. The mojito, his second by now, may have also played a part in that decision.

It worked. Akaashi rolled his eyes and turned back towards the dance floor, his interest in torturing Kuroo dropped. “Very funny, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo laughed, felt it tumble out of his chest due to his growing inebriation. He decided to save further awkwardness by changing the subject. “How are things going over at Fukurodani?”

Bokuto was as close as there was to a “captain” of Fukurodani, if such a thing existed. He showed up to all the important deals and meetings, motivated the other members, and was arguably the most skilled of the group in brute athleticism and intimidation.

To anyone who interacted with Bokuto for more than a business deal, however, it became clear that despite being “captain”, he was very much not the only one running Fukurodani. The expert planning of jobs, recruitment of new members, relations with other groups, and financials all belonged to Akaashi Keiji. Together, they made one of the most powerful duos of Tokyo’s underground crime syndicate, if not all of Japan.

Kuroo often wondered why exactly Akaashi worked with Fukurodani. He was attractive, not particularly poor, kind (most of the time), and smart. Kuroo had even heard that he had a degree in pre-law studies. Bokuto was surprisingly tight-lipped about the subject whenever Kuroo interrogated him about it.

“Things are going well,” Akaashi broke Kuroo out of his train of thought. He tended to get stuck in his head when he was drunk. “We found a new lead on a supplier this week, so everyone is a bit less stressed.”

Though they refused to claim it as a “specialty”, Fukurodani worked most often with illegal weapons distribution. With Japan’s strict gun laws, it was both incredibly lucrative and dangerous work.

In times past, Nekoma’s “specialty” was illegal drugs. That was actually what led Kuroo, an undergrad chemistry student at the time, to join. He was convinced, naively, that his chemistry education would allow him to sail through the field of drug production. It did, for a while, but he found that he was more skilled as a conman, someone to smooth talk and lie their way into getting what Nekoma needed.

After a handful of incidents that had no doubt given Kuroo some form of post-traumatic stress disorder, Kuroo decided to switch over to full-time conman jobs. Nekomata-sensei took the decision graciously, something that Kuroo would be forever grateful for.

“And Nekoma?” Akaashi looked at him expectantly. Kuroo blinked, realizing that he must be further in his head than normal tonight.

“We’re doing good,” Kuroo spoke, words feeling lighter than normal due to the alcohol. “Teshiro just skipped town, though, so we’re down one techie.”

“I heard about that,” Akaashi grimaced, long fingers scratching at the ridges of the water bottle cap nervously. “Guess Monster, right?”

“Yep,” Kuroo popped the ‘p’, sighing. “Supposedly Nekomata-sensei found a replacement already, but _you_ know how hard it is to find someone who is reliable.”

Akaashi nodded knowingly.

They both sipped on their drinks in silence.

“Oh,” Akaashi spoke again, “Just as a heads up. Fukurodani got a job request that we turned down. Some CEO that wanted another CEO in Kyoto to be swindled. It seems like your type of thing, so I’m sure Nekomata-sensei will take it if it ends up in Nekoma’s hands.”

Kuroo sighed, long and deep. “Thanks for the heads up, Akaashi.”

Akaashi nodded, short and clean and sober.

* * *

Kuroo went home before twelve, a first for him since the start of the BoKuroo Great Bar Conquest.

Akaashi dragged Bokuto home by eleven-twenty, insisting that he had promised that the younger man would get to be home by midnight, at the latest.

“But Agaaaashiiiiii,” Bokuto had slurred, an actual pout on his face, “that’s still forty minutes away.”

“Yes, Bokuto-san, but your apartment is thirty-five minutes from here, and then I still need to travel to mine once I get you home safely.” Akaashi slid a final tip across the bartop and began to stand.

“My apartment is not thirty-five minutes from here.” Bokuto crossed his arms like a child and resolutely stayed put.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi leveled his eyes with Bokuto, his tone assertive but not aggressive, “you should get some sleep before the meeting tomorrow with the new recruits. You won’t be able to make a good first impression if you’re tired.”

Bokuto stood up straight, eyes widening in excitement at the revelation. “You’re right, Agaashiiiiii. Let’s hurry!”

Kuroo chuckled as Bokuto wrapped him in a bear hug before turning and nearly running out of the club. He knew the real reason was that a drunk Bokuto would take nearly twice as long to shepherd home than a sober one. An unaffected Akaashi Keiji gave Kuroo a wave before following in his path, albeit a bit slower.

Komi and Konoha had disappeared near the beginning of the night and never did show back up. Without much of a reason to stay, Kuroo decided to walk back to his apartment for the night.

As he walked home, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets to escape the chilly spring air, the mojitos sat heavy in his stomach. He could feel himself swaying slightly, although he assured himself it couldn’t be too bad if Akaashi had let him leave by himself. Maybe. As always, what Akaashi thought of him was up in the air. His eyelids felt heavy and his mouth felt dry and all he could think of as he placed one foot in front of the other was the feeling of his warm comforter awaiting him at the end of his walk.

Of course, he would also need to feed Hime once he reached home. He repeated the task over and over in his mind, lest he drunkenly forget. Not that Hime would let him, and Kuroo was certain that he would be woken up to yowling at three in the morning were he to actually forget.

She also needed more food. She was a fickle cat, true to her name, and turned her nose up at most foods. When he first adopted her, Kuroo had painstakingly rotated through all the brands at the store closest to his apartment to no avail. He did eventually find one she liked, at Yaku’s recommendation. The only issue was that it was only sourced at the locally owned pet shop a forty-five-minute train ride away. Kuroo supposed he would have to make time for that trip tomorrow. Maybe he should start buying in bulk. But then, he thought, he would still have to carry it all back. Maybe he should recruit Bokuto to help. Or Lev. Lev was always too willing to-

Kuroo was quite literally knocked out of his train of thought when he walked straight into someone. He stumbled to the right a few steps, nearly losing his balance since his inebriated self refused to take his hands out of his pockets. The person was smaller than Kuroo, and slimmer, and had long hair. A girl, he thought. Or a child. He was going to get pepper-sprayed.

He immediately folded himself into a deep bow, but his motor skills weren’t quite up for that in his state, and he nearly tumbled forward onto the person, once again. This was a disaster. He opened his mouth to let out a stream of slurred apologies when the other person beat him to it.

“Sorry,” the person muttered, lower and scratchier than Kuroo expected. And- Wait a minute, Kuroo knew that voice.

“Kenma!” he exclaimed, shooting himself back up from the bow and once again taking a few steps to the left to regain his balance. He took a closer look at the person, now, who was already walking away from Kuroo, eyes glued to his phone. This was definitely Kenma, long hair tied into a low bun. In the glow of the streetlights, the gradient from dark chestnut to blonde made him look ethereal.

The man stopped then and turned around to face Kuroo. His golden eyes were unreadable in the low light. Kuroo realized, at this moment, that maybe Kenma didn’t recognize him at all and maybe Kuroo was being creepy.

“Kuro?” Kenma spoke before Kuroo could travel too far down that train of thought. So, he did recognize him. This was good.

“What are you doing out so late?” Kuroo spoke before wondering, again, if that was a creepy thing to ask. He cursed the mojitos.

“Are you drunk?” Kenma retorted, one eyebrow traveling up towards his hairline as his eyes traveled over Kuroo’s form, no doubt judging him.

“Are you?” He retorted dumbly and defensively. Kenma always had a way of making him feel nervous, even when he wasn’t teetering on a Tokyo street at midnight. Not to mention the- _the dream_. The sudden memory of it hit drunk-Kuroo like a truck and he felt his face go red against his will. His eyes scanned Kenma’s body before decidedly focusing on the concrete at his feet. It would be a miracle if he made it through this.

Kenma was silent for a moment, and Kuroo wondered if maybe he were a mind reader and Kuroo was doomed. Then, he spoke, this time concern evident in his quiet voice, “No, Kuro. Do you need help calling a taxi or something?”

Kuroo laughed loudly without quite meaning to, eyes looking up from the concrete back to Kenma, who was observing him as always. Kenma was worried about him. It was cute and made his heart swell. He then realized he probably looked like a psychopath, laughing like a hyena and staring at Kenma, so he quickly looked away. He hated being drunk.

"No, I’ll be alright. My apartment is only a few blocks that way.” Kuroo waved in a direction he was 80 percent sure was correct.

Kenma didn’t seem satisfied with that, his golden eyes slowly gazing the way that Kuroo had indicated before landing once again on the man in front of him and his black, fitted jacket.

Even so, Kuroo thought to himself, what could he do? Sure, he was worried, but Kuroo was just a coffee shop employee and Kenma was just a customer. Against what his brain would like to believe, this was NOT some fantasy where-

“Do you have roommates?” Kenma inquired.

Shit, Kuroo thought as his drunk brain started working overtime, was he trying to go home with him? “No.”

“Here, then.” Kenma started digging through his coat pockets, and Kuroo considered that maybe he was really off the mark here and he was about to be stabbed.

“Um-“

But then Kenma was holding a small, black paper card with white text in his direction.

Business card?

_Kodzuken,_ it read. Below it was a phone number. Those were the only two pieces of information on the card. Kodzuken… Kuroo had heard that name before. The source was on the tip of his tongue, just barely escaping.

Before he could dwell too much on it, Kenma spoke up again, “That’s normally what I give people who I work with, but the number on it is my cell phone number. Please text me when you’re home safe so I know if I need to choose a new coffee shop next week.”

“You’d stop going to Mame if I wasn’t there?” Kuroo asked, choosing that part of the sentence to hyper fixate on. 

Kenma was blushing, Kuroo was pretty sure. But then again, it was dark and Kuroo was drunk. His golden eyes were now, however, trained on the ground instead of Kuroo for one of the first times in his working memory.

Kuroo smiled. The implications of this conversation were enough to make him giddy, even if they ended up being drunk misunderstandings. “I’ll text you when I’m home,” he peered once again at the card in his hand as his smile transformed to a smirk, “ _Kodzuken_.”

Kenma’s eyes were now back on Kuroo’s in what was definitely a glare. “Goodnight, Kuro.”

And then, he was gone.

* * *

New Contact Added: kyanma

To: kyanma 00:10

Home sFE

From: kyanma 00:11

thanks

From: kyanma 00:11

now go to bed

* * *

As far as Kuroo was concerned, there were two options here.

Option One: Saturday night was a drunken hallucination and he never ran into Kenma at all. The new contact in his phone was Konoha or maybe even Yaku playing a joke on him. 

Implications Moving Forward: His relationship with Kenma proceeds as usual. He needs to drink less, or wait until he’s sobered up more to walk home.

Option Two: Saturday night did indeed happen and he did indeed run into Kenma. The new contact in his phone was indeed Kenma.

Implications Moving Forward: He had even less of an idea of what the hell his relationship is with Kenma.

He had tried to search for Kenma’s apparent name, Kodzuken, online to no avail. There were absolutely no traces of that word anywhere on the accessible worldwide web. Or, at least not that Kuroo could access. This evidence pointed in the direction of Option One, because maybe Kuroo drunkenly mashed letters together and tried to make meaning of them.

In support of Option Two was the fact that the only person who knew about Kenma was Kuroo himself. His friends couldn’t tease him about someone they didn’t know existed. Unless Kuroo had drunkenly spilled everything.

Huh.

Regardless, the answer would come when Kenma walked through the door at Mame. Kuroo was hopeful he still would. This was still just a coffee shop and Kenma had no obligation to show up, regardless of which Option had occurred. In fact, had Option Two happened, he might even be less inclined to show up to avoid awkwardness. 

Kenma seemed like the nonconfrontational type.

Kuroo was nervous as he stared at the glass doors on Monday night. He scolded himself for feeling that way. He was probably being creepy. Anything he had imagined about how Kenma felt about him was just that: his imagination. 

He glanced down at his phone regardless. Eleven-forty-five.

He glanced up at the doors.

Nothing.

Minutes passed. He watched a meme that Bokuto sent him, a video where a cat took a too-large bite of food.

Eleven-fifty.

Still nothing at the doors.

A text came in from, presumably, Lev on his burner phone at eleven-fifty-three. 

NEW MESSAGE FROM: UNKNOWN NUMBER

<OPEN> <CLOSE>

THINGS ARE FINALLLLLLLY FINALIZED WITH THE TECH GUY. THE MEETING WAS SO LONG > : ( HE IS SOOOO QUIET BUT SENSEI REALLY REALLY LIKES HIM. U NEED TO MEET HIM SOON.

He didn’t reply.

Another text came in at eleven-fifty-four.

NEW MESSAGE FROM: UNKNOWN NUMBER

<OPEN> <CLOSE>

THIS IS N. SENSEI NEEDS YOU TO BE HERE ONCE YOU’RE OFF. THERE’S A JOB TONIGHT.

He didn’t reply again. He’d be there soon anyway.

The doors were still shut.

He sighed and checked his phone, the non-work one. Eleven-fifty-eight.

He turned around and started towards the break room, which was also home to the light switches for the building. Closing two minutes early wouldn’t send Mame out of business.

Before he could turn the corner, there was the frantic sound of the front door chime and someone storming into the small coffee shop.

Kuroo swung around, body reaching for the nearest thing on impulse. He readied himself for the attack, heels digging into the ground beneath him. He-

Oh. Wait.

It was Kenma.

Kenma, standing in the entrance of the shop, hands on his knees, nearly wheezing from exertion. Kuroo lowered the – can of whipped cream? – he had been winding up to throw at the intruder.

“Sorry,” He breathed out, deathly quiet. “A meeting with my new employer ran late.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Kuroo asked genuinely.

Kenma was silent. His heavy breathing had now calmed down enough that Kuroo could no longer hear it.

Kuroo stared at him. Kenma refused to meet his eyes. It looked like he was blushing again, but then again, the man had just finished sprinting to see Kuroo. Sprinting. To see Kuroo.

Huh.

Kuroo turned around and began wordlessly making Kenma’s red eye. He didn’t even internally complain about having to reclean the espresso machine.

When he finally turned around, Kenma was already at the counter, proper change in hand.

They wordlessly did the handoff of coffee and yen, Kuroo’s own thick and calloused fingers brushing Kenma’s long and soft ones. It sent shivers from his brain to his feet and back again.

Huh.

Kenma left in silence. His cheeks were still stained pink.

* * *

To: bo 00:22

bro can i get your advice on something? and you have to be honest with me if im being a creep or dumb

From: bo 00:24

YES BRO ily

* * *

To: kyanma 00:46

hey kenma! its kuroo. i still have your number from the other night and i don’t mean to be texting you out of the blue. i hope im not misreading things here, but would you want to go out for dinner with me this weekend? if you arent busy ofc : )

To: kyanma 01:01

hey kenma. im sorry if i was being too forward. we dont have to bring this up again. sorry for making things awkward haha. hope you have a good night! : )

From: kyanma 01:09

just now saw this, sorry

From: kyanma 01:09

this weekend would be fun

* * *

To: bo 01:10

BRO

||1 attachment [screenshot of text messages between kyanma and user between 00:46 and 1:09]||

From: bo 01:14

BRO

From: bo 01:14

IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

From: bo 01:15

where are you going to take him?????????

* * *

Kenma stopped showing up to Mame after Monday night. Kuroo was very confident that this was a Bad Sign.

Bokuto, in his eternal optimism, ensured him that it wasn’t.

“Bro,” Bokuto had enthused to him around his straw on Thursday afternoon. They were trying a new trendy smoothie bar that had cropped up near Fukurodani. The owner had paled at the sight of Bokuto and made sure that both of their drinks were free. Weird. “He is probably _just_ as interested as you are and is trying to save it for the _date_.”

“He might not even think it’s a date,” Kuroo grumbled.

“You showed me the messages, Tetsu. We drafted them together. What you sent was textbook date-asking.”

“Yet they still lacked the word ‘date’.”

Bokuto pulled his phone out of his pocket and began reading off the screenshot that Kuroo had sent, “’I hope I’m not misreading things here’. ‘Sorry if I was being too forward’. Smiley faces. Exclamation points.” Bokuto dropped his phone onto the table and took another long sip of his smoothie. “That’s date talk. Kenma, or like anyone in the world, would pick up on that.”

“I just can’t help feeling like I’m creepy.”

“Wasn’t he the one to give you his number?”

“After I drunkenly ran him over.”

“Still.”

“And now he’s not even coming to Mame,” Kuroo moped and lazily stirred his straw in his drink.

“Maybe he’s busy.”

“Maybe,” Kuroo frowned. It was still weird for him to show up so much and then just spontaneously stop. Right after Kuroo asked him to dinner.

“Look, bro. From everything you have told me, it seems like he is into you,” Bokuto beamed at him and sat up slightly to reach across the table and slap his shoulder. The cashier at the counter jumped at the sudden movement. “Besides, you’re a catch.”

“Thanks, Bo.” Kuroo was cheered up a bit after that.

“Now, have you decided where you’re taking him?”

Kuroo hadn’t. “I’m still narrowing down places.”

Bokuto gasped as if this were a criminal offense. At least, a worse one than they did regularly. “It’s going to look bad if you wait too long to give formal plans.”

“I thought you said he was into me?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow, Bokuto’s poor reaction increasing his anxiety.

“That doesn’t mean you can have bad manners. Here, I’ll help you.” Bokuto’s familiar look of sheer determination was in his eyes. “Where are you trying to decide between?”

“Um.” Kuroo was silent.

“Bro,” Bokuto whispered, mock disappointed. “You don’t even have a list?”

“I’m nervous. I don’t even know what he would like!” Kuroo exclaimed defensively. He was pretty sure his face was red.

“You aren’t supposed to know for the first date. You aren’t ordering his food for him. It’s all about the experience. There’s fancy, there’s casual, you could do a picnic type thing, you could go to a bar, you could-“

“Wait,” Kuroo stopped him, sitting forward excitedly. The pieces were falling into place. “I’ll ask him where he wants to go.”

“But then you aren’t taking him out.” Bokuto cocked his head.

“I’ll still be paying,” Kuroo huffed. “Plus, you haven’t met him. He doesn’t seem like the type to want… _all that_.” Kuroo waved his hand at some imaginary spot in the air.

“All what?”

“You know. A guy who makes all the decisions and stuff. He seems independent. I think he’d maybe appreciate me asking for his input,” Kuroo thought out loud.

“Text him then,” Bokuto urged him excitedly. “It’s already Thursday.”

“Can you help me with it again?” Kuroo asked.

Bokuto nodded enthusiastically, nearly beaming with pride that Kuroo decided to ask him.

After bickering back and forth for twenty minutes about the wording, they gave each other a hug and parted ways. The owner ran out from the back and locked the door and drew the blinds as soon as they were off the property.

* * *

To: kyanma 14:38

Looking forward to this weekend! I was wondering if you had any place you’d be most comfortable going?

From: kyanma 14:45

Have you been to KIZUO?

* * *

KIZUO, to both Kuroo’s relief and anxiety, didn’t take reservations. It was a trendy ramen shop in West Tokyo with a color scheme of black and purple. It had table service, so it was much more formal than the small, homey ramen bars that Kuroo was more familiar with.

Kuroo had lamented over his outfit for the night, but after many panicked texts to Bokuto and even Akaashi, he decided on fitted, black jeans and a collared, white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the first few buttons undone.

He showed up to KIZUO at six-forty on Saturday, about twenty minutes before the time they had decided to meet. Though he was happy to not have to worry about making a reservation, he was worried the place would be busy if he got there right at seven. So, he came early and allowed the hostess to take him to a table for two. He ordered water for the both of them and patiently waited. His hands were sweaty and his heartbeat quickly in his chest. Should he scroll through his phone while he waited? What if Kenma showed up early and saw him on his phone and thought that meant Kuroo was uninterested? Kuroo decided to awkwardly just wait. It was only twenty minutes.

It was a nice restaurant. Dim lighting fell over the black-painted room, accented by purple lanterns hung strategically from the ceiling. It was moderately busy for a weekend, but there was still no wait even as the time drew closer to seven. He could smell the delicious food around him and was honestly excited for his meal.

Kenma showed up pretty much exactly at seven. Kuroo’s mouth went dry as he spotted him walking through the door of the restaurant. He looked good. Very good. He was dressed up a bit from when Kenma normally saw him, wearing jeans, a nice-looking black sweatshirt, and a collared white shirt underneath.

So, Kenma definitely got the memo about it being a date, then. The silent confirmation made Kuroo’s stomach twist in anxiety.

The hostess smiled and bowed towards Kenma in recognition before letting him walk past her and into the restaurant. Kenma bowed back politely before scanning the restaurant, golden eyes eventually landing on Kuroo’s table. He walked toward him.

Kuroo’s stomach twisted again as sudden insecurity hit him. Should he hug him? That was normally what you did at the beginning of a date, right? But Kenma didn’t seem like the hug type. Handshake? No. Kuroo inwardly blanched at the awkwardness of that. He really should have thought of this sooner.

In his work with Nekoma, he rarely ever planned situations out in advance. He simply allowed his charisma and wit to guide him through whatever jobs Nekomata-sensei threw at him. It was now evident that his brain was too short-circuited for that to work at the moment.

_What would Bokuto do?_ He thought to himself hurriedly as Kenma drew closer and closer. His friend, he thought, would probably exclaim Kenma’s name and run to swoop him up in a bear hug at the first sight of him. That wouldn’t work.

His mind quickly began to cycle through every first date he had ever been on. All of them were either shitty or started with a hug, and none of them had felt nearly as important as this one.

Perfect, he thought to himself, he was going to offend Kenma before the date even started. Maybe he was overthinking the whole thing and he wouldn’t mind a hug and-

“Are you alright?” Kenma’s voice spoke quietly.

Kuroo blinked back to reality. He followed the source of the voice to the man who was now sitting across from him at the table, peering at him with a level gaze. His heart rate jumped as his face burned with embarrassment. Wow, Kuroo, he thought to himself, what a great time to delve into one of his unstoppable trains of thought.

“Oh, god,” He stuttered, face still bright red, awkwardly bowing while sitting. “I am _so_ sorry, Kenma, I didn’t see you- I mean, I _saw_ you, but then I just started thinking, and I am so sorry for not greeting you, I didn’t even get your chair for you-“

“It’s alright,” Kenma cut him off with a nonchalant tone. “I get nervous with these types of things too.”

Kuroo closed his previously gaping jaw. He really wasn’t mad? “I… I still am sorry, though. It was rude of me to not acknowledge you.”

“It’s alright. Really, Kuro.” He fixed Kuroo with a look that let him know he was sincere. “Have you been here before?”

“Uhm.” Kuroo took a deep breath, still trying to recover from his embarrassment. “No, I haven’t. You have though, right? It looked like the hostess recognized you.”

“Yeah. I like it here.” He fiddled with the sleeves of his sweatshirt and broke the intense eye contact to gaze at the table. Kenma was wearing rings. _Rings._ Kuroo’s brain stuttered. “Thank you for asking me for my input on where we went, by the way.”

A smile found its way onto Kuroo’s face at that, happy that he had made the right decision. “No problem. What do you normally get?”

“I like the shio.” Now that he was closer, Kuroo could see that Kenma was wearing a subtle, gold collar chain. It drew attention to his neck, soft and contoured. Kuroo gulped.

Kuroo reluctantly drew his eyes off of the man’s neck and down to the menu in front of him. He cleared his throat. “Shio is good.”

Kenma nodded and once again began to fiddle with his sleeves. Kuroo watched him over the top of the menu. Were his fingers always so long? Kuroo felt his face grow hot. He had really nice hands, and he couldn’t help but wonder how they would look-

He blinked himself back to reality. If he made it through tonight without melting it would be a God-given miracle. He quickly read the menu in front of him. Maybe he should have decided before Kenma arrived, to be less rude?

Kuroo risked a glance over the menu again. Kenma wasn’t reading the menu, but he didn’t look bored or annoyed. He seemed to be just patiently waiting for Kuroo to finish reading.

He tried to be quick regardless, though. He was excited to have the night to focus just on Kenma. He eventually decided on the sumo ramen, a specialty from KIZUO loaded with chashu and shrimp.

“So,” Kuroo spoke, setting his menu down. “How’s your day been so far, Kenma?”

“Good,” He spoke.

Kuroo nodded. One of the only pieces of advice Akaashi had given to him was to not turn it into an interview. Casual, fun comments, not too many questions. Follow the flow, let silence happen if it happens. Dates had so many rules. “I’m glad.”

The waiter walked to their table about two minutes later, clad in black slacks, a long-sleeved black dress shirt, and a purple tie. “Kozume-san,” He smiled and bowed, “and friend. Good evening and welcome to KIZUO. My name is Niwa-san and I’ll be your server. What can I get for you tonight?”

They placed their orders, although Kuroo was pretty sure Kenma’s order was already known and only asked for out of formality.

“So do you come here often, or do you know one of the staff?” Kuroo asked, taking a sip of water.

“Come here often. I like ramen and it’s close to my apartment.”

“Often enough for all the staff to know you?” Kuroo tried to imagine Kenma sitting at a booth by himself here, perhaps in the corner, playing a game on his phone.

Kenma shrugged nonchalantly. “Their to-go line is open pretty late.”

Kuroo snorted a laugh. “Damn nocturnal cat.”

“You snort?” Kenma raised a level eyebrow at him, tactfully ignoring the cat comment.

Kuroo smirked. “It’s just cute how you seem to be up late all the time.”

“So do you. I’m pretty sure this is the earliest of our interactions so far.”

“You know I close at Mame.” Kuroo rolled his eyes.

“That all?” Kenma found his eyes.

“Hm?” Kuroo intoned, caught off guard.

“You have to be out of there by half-past midnight at the latest. You’ve texted me much later than that before.” Kenma’s golden eyes didn’t leave his. Similar to their first meeting, Kuroo was being studied.

This was an element of tonight that Kuroo hadn’t accounted for. Kuroo was excited that he could give Kenma his full attention for the night, but the reverse was also true. Kenma was able to observe Kuroo with no distractions. It made Kuroo’s heart rise up his throat, head light with anxiety.

“Yeah,” Kuroo laughed nervously, Kenma’s stare making him more nervous than he normally was when he made up work alibis. “I just like to stay up late, too.”

“Oh,” Kenma said. If his gaze was curious, he at least didn’t push Kuroo about it further.

“So what do you do in your free time?” Kuroo asked, painting on a smile. He mentally kicked his panicked brain for asking perhaps the most cliché first date question. Although he told himself, he was interested in Kenma’s answer.

“Uhm,” Kenma spoke lightly, eyes leaving Kuroo’s as he reentered the spotlight. “I play a lot of video games.”

“Oh?” Kuroo’s eyes lit up, happy to finally find out some sort of personal information about the man.

They were in the midst of a conversation about Kenma’s latest game, one which Kuroo was fairly sure Bokuto had played in front of him before, when Niwa-san brought their food. Kuroo nearly drooled at the sight of it.

Both men rolled their chopsticks together and said a polite “thank you for the food” before digging in, Kuroo a bit more aggressive than Kenma.

“This is delicious, Kenma.” Kuroo spoke after a few bites. “Thank you for recommending this place.”

“No problem.” Kenma’s face turned pink as he picked at a noodle with his chopsticks. Kuroo’s eyes followed and- Oh. His fingers, once again, made Kuroo’s mouth go dry. Long and smooth and precisely manipulating the chopsticks to his liking. His various rings glinted in the low light of KIZUO. What a great night for Kuroo to figure out he had a hand kink.

Kuroo continued his meal, glancing at Kenma’s hands every so often. They ate in relative, comfortable, silence until Kenma spoke up, “What do you do?”

“Hm?” Kuroo hummed around a mouthful of dumplings.

“In your free time?” He spoke softly, urgently, as if the thought to ask had just occurred to him.

“Let’s see.” Kuroo grinned and laid down his chopsticks. “I have a cat, Hime, who takes up a lot of my free time. I also played volleyball in high school and college, and still play with my friends when I can.”

Kenma’s eyes drifted to Kuroo’s covered biceps at the word volleyball and stayed there even as he asked, “Cat?”

“Yes, Hime is my moon and stars. Want to see a picture?”

Kenma nodded, eyes still scanning Kuroo’s body slowly.

Kuroo made a show of subtly flexing as he reached into his pocket for his phone because he could be an asshole sometimes. He clicked the lock button and his screen saver, Hime on her back in the sunlight from a window, lit up the screen. He flipped the phone towards Kenma, who finally looked up, face red.

"She’s cute.” A soft look was in Kenma’s eyes.

“She is. She loves meeting new people.” Kuroo slid his phone back into his pocket. “Just saying.”

Kenma smiled, small and so quick Kuroo almost missed it.

They delved into a conversation about volleyball before Niwa-san brought the check. Kuroo told him about Bokuto and how they had met each other on the college team. He talked about spiking and how being a captain in high school was the highlight of his teenage years. He talked about Lev, a new “colleague” who insisted on joining their pickup games and had absolutely no skill despite being “Russian and tall as fuck”. He missed Kenma’s eyebrow twitch at the mention of that last one.

Kenma talked about how he, too, had done volleyball in high school and hated it at first. He talked about a friend from a rival school, Shoyou, who was one of the few reasons he didn’t quit. He talked about setting and the mental athletics of it. He promised to toss for Kuroo soon.

Once the bill was set on the edge of the table, Kenma’s sleek hand slowly slid towards it. Kuroo nearly knocked over their bowls as he jumped to grab it first.

Kenma blinked, hand frozen in place.

“It’s fine,” Kuroo ensured. “My treat.”

“I know this place is expensive, Kuro, and I chose it. I really don’t mind.” Kenma still looked a bit puzzled at Kuroo’s urgency.

It was indeed expensive, but it wasn’t as if Kuroo didn’t have money. Kuroo laughed. “Think that just because I work at a coffee shop I’m broke?”

Kenma was silent, affirming his answer.

“Okay, Mr. IT freelancer,” Kuroo teased lightheartedly and urgently waved Niwa-san over. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Kenma smiled again, almost imperceptibly. Kuroo internally cheered at being the cause of it.

Kuroo found himself standing outside of KIZUO after that. “Thank you, Kenma. Really, I had a great time.”

Kenma turned pink, golden eyes gazing towards the concrete. “I did too, Kuro.”

Kuroo’s heart swelled at the admission. “Following the gentleman theme, I can walk you home if you’d like?”

Kenma shook his head. “It’s alright, Kuro. Thank you.”

“To the train station, at least?”

“It’s close enough to walk, so I don’t take the train.”

“Well, which way are you headed? Maybe we could walk together for a few blocks before parting ways.” Kuroo prayed he wasn’t being creepy at this point, but he just didn’t want tonight to end.

After realizing Kenma’s apartment was in the same direction as the train station Kuroo would be heading to, they began their journey side by side. Kenma’s skin glowed under the lights of Tokyo’s night. He noticed Kenma’s fists were balled up into his sweatshirt sleeves in an attempt to escape the April night chill. “Cold?”

Kenma shrugged, though didn’t unball his fists. “It’s not bad.”

Kuroo took a deep breath, steadying himself. Tonight had gone good, he assured himself. Kenma seemed into him, and Kuroo was definitely into Kenma. He silently took his left hand out of his jeans pockets and extended it toward the other man, leaving him to go the rest of the way, giving him an out if Kuroo was overextending here. He didn’t dare look in Kenma’s direction.

Kuroo’s body felt a shock of electricity as long, cold fingers intertwined with his own. The metal of his rings dug into his flesh. Kuroo was sure he was going to faint. He felt his face get uncomfortably hot as he held in a rather embarrassing squeal. He didn’t have the nerve to look down at the shorter man, but he was certain that Kenma must be blushing as well. Kenma’s hands were soft and held onto Kuroo’s firmly but not too tight. Kuroo prayed his own weren’t sweaty. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence, hands intertwined on the quiet Tokyo road. Kuroo wondered how they looked to passerbys. Did they look like they belonged together? Did they reek of first date nerves, or of two partners walking in comfortable camaraderie?

In a time too short for Kuroo’s liking, they reached the intersection where they had to part ways. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand as they stood still on the sidewalk.

Kuroo turned toward Kenma. “Thank you for tonight, Kenma. You had fun, right?”

The long-haired man nodded.

Kuroo smiled. “I’m glad. We should plan more time together.”

Kenma blushed and smiled, a rare one that lingered on his soft face. “Just text me the details, Kuro.”

Kuroo grinned, his heart slamming against his rib cage. Kenma was right here, standing in front of him. His lips were right there, only inches away as he gazed up at Kuroo. Kuroo imagined himself leaning forward, closing his eyes as he bridged the gap. Kenma would meet him halfway, standing on the balls of his feet as Kuroo hunched down and wrapped his arms around his neck. Kenma would lightly reach up and let his soft fingers brush against Kuroo’s cheek as they had their first kiss, their chapped lips engulfing each other.

But there Kenma was, right there, standing in front of him.

His golden eyes were piercing, maybe hopeful, maybe not, but definitely intense. Kuroo was paralyzed under their gaze.

“Please text me when you’re home safe?” Kuroo’s voice was low and scratchy, their faces intimately close.

Kenma nodded silently, eyes not leaving Kuroo’s.

Kuroo leaned forward, and he saw Kenma close his eyes. All courage left his body as his own remained open, his arms wrapping around Kenma in a goodbye hug.

Kenma was still for a moment before hugging him back.

And with that, Kuroo went right and Kenma went left.

* * *

From: bo 19:04

BRO I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!! BLOW HIM AWAY, ILY!!!!!!!!

To: bo 21:49

bro

From: bo 21:50

BRO?? HOW DID IT GO???

To: bo 21:51

im fucked, bo. so fucked

From: bo 21:51

BROOOOO IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU wait that’s a good fucked right

To: bo 21:52

yes good. i think i did a dumbass thing tho

From: bo 21:53

its okay bro we can analyze together. lunch tomorrow?

To: bo 21:55

yes please. sensei wants to see me in the late afternoon tho

From: bo 21:56

HELL YEAH ill see you at your place at 11 then

To: bo 21:56

bet

From: bo 21:57

rly tho bro, im proud of you <3

* * *

The first thing Kuroo thought as he walked into the apartment in South Tokyo that had recently become Nekoma’s headquarters was, _So, it must be a big thing._

He had gotten a text from Nekoma on Saturday morning that Nekomata-sensei needed him to show up the following day for a meeting. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary. What _was_ out of the ordinary was the fact that it was not just Nekomata-sensei and Naoi-san who met him in the living room. Nearly everyone in Nekoma was present, and it seemed as though Kuroo was the last to arrive.

If Nekomata-sensei were to fill him in on general Nekoma-happenings or to assign him some new work, it would have just been Sensei himself and Naoi-san. No one - save for Shibayama, who always had his eyebrows tilted in an anxious expression – seemed too worried by the large meeting. Kuroo, as someone who was probably the closest thing to a leader below Sensei and Naoi-san, decided not to be too worried either. At least, not until he knew more.

“Nekomata-sensei. Naoi-san.” Kuroo bowed to each of them individually as he entered the apartment. They sat together on a pricey leather couch, with the rest of the Nekoma troupe lazily sitting wherever they could. Lev sat squeezed next to Naoi-san, grinning from ear to ear, seemingly unaware of the awkwardness that brought about for the elder. The rest of the boys sat in relatively normal spaces. Fukunaga was watering the houseplants that Nekomata-sensei had compiled over time.

“Kuroo-kun.” Nekomata-sensei grinned. “I hope you traveled here safely.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Kuroo bowed again.

“I’ll go ahead and get started, then. I know you boys have places to be on a Sunday,” He laughed to himself. Naoi-san picked up the notepad from his lap and readied himself to make notes of the meeting.

“I take teamwork and teambuilding very seriously. You all know this. Teamwork and bonds are what have given Nekoma the power and strength to rise to prominence in Tokyo. We are nothing without each and every one of you,” Nekomata-sensei paused for a moment to look at each of his members in the face. “I have brought you all here today out of respect. As you all know, Teshiro-kun has retired from Nekoma. Naoi-kun and I have been searching for someone to refortify the spots which were weakened by Teshiro-kun’s absence. You all remember the recruitment process for Nekoma and the lengths we go to in order to ensure a proper fit. I can say with one hundred percent certainty that this individual is greatly qualified to work with you, and I believe that he will get along well with our team.

“I would never expect any of you to blindly trust this person, which is why I have gathered you all here to let you know about him and my decision before meeting him. He is greatly skilled in computers, data informatics, target tracking, and he is very handy with portable technology.” Nekomata-sensei chuckled, “Now, you all know that my expertise on computers is limited at best, so please ask him any specific questions. That said, part of my reasoning for this meeting is for you all to bring up any concerns or questions you have about this new teammate. Remember, no stupid questions.”

Kuroo deeply admired Nekomata-sensei as a leader. This was just one example of many as to why. 

“Kuroo-kun, I must apologize to you.” Nekomata-sensei turned to look at him where he stood. “I plan for all of you to meet him before formally working with him, however, Kuroo-kun will not have the opportunity to do that. A great opportunity has fallen into our hands. The CEO of Yawara Inc., Okamoto Yashinori, has been going from club to club here in Tokyo looking for someone to help him out. I believe he last contacted Fukurodani.” Kuroo’s conversation with Akaashi rang in his head. “Ito Enterprises has apparently been encroaching on Yawara’s market for quite some time, and Okamoto-san is interested in making it so that Ito is no longer able to fund their endeavors.

“The CEO of Ito, Minamoto Shigeru, will be in Kyoto for a few days this week at a textile conference promoting his company and looking for new investors and investments. Kuroo-kun, I would like you to travel to Kyoto this week and intercept Minamoto-san. You’ll convince him he would be dumb not to invest in you, and in the end, he will be out of a couple of million yen. Our new recruit will go with you to track Minamoto-san, as well as feed information to you about him and his company as you chat with him. This is why you won’t be able to meet him prior to working with him.”

Nekomata-sensei looked at Kuroo sincerely. “I truly do apologize for that. We will put you two up in a nice Kyoto hotel, as well as reimburse you for the days you’ll have to miss at Mame. And be assured, you and he both will receive a very fair share of the profits. Is that alright with you, Kuroo-kun?”

“Yes, Nekomata-sensei.” Kuroo grinned and bowed at him. Sensei had done a lot for him, and he trusted that he wasn’t being put in a bad situation here.

“Thank you.” Nekomata-sensei grinned. “Now, does anyone have any questions or concerns about our new teammate?”

“Hmm.” Lev raised an eyebrow and hummed out loud. After a pause, he spoke, “Not really, Sensei. I trust you.” He turned to Kuroo. “You’ll love him! He’s very short. Though not as short as Yaku-san.” Yaku’s head whipped towards Lev and his eye twitched. Kuroo smirked, certain that had Lev not been sitting on the couch with Naoi-san and Sensei, he would have been smacked. “He’s super quiet, but also super funny.”

“Lev’s idea of funny is that the guy shot him death glares each time he tried to act too buddy-buddy with him.” Yaku was still glaring at him.

“He was being sarcastic, you guys,” Lev laughed and waved him off. Kuroo was going to take Yaku’s side on this one, even having not met the guy yet.

“Is he from Tokyo?” Kai asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, originally, however, he went to Osaka to go to university. He graduated recently and has just moved back,” Naoi-san responded, flipping through his notepad.

“Has he done underground stuff before?” Inuoka was the one to ask this one.

"Yes, although honestly not to this level. He mostly worked alone up until this point.”

“Why the change?” Kai asked.

“He almost ran into legal trouble in university, and he said he wants the backup and knowledge that comes with working with a team. He also said he heard good things about Nekoma, but that could have just been him trying to flatter Nekomata-sensei.”

“What’s his name again?” Kuroo asked, unsure if it had even been brought up before this point.

“About that. At this point, he would like anonymity besides you all obviously seeing his face. We expect you all to take this very seriously and respect his wishes unless he ever decides to change that. He goes by Kodzuken.”

Kodzuken.

Kuroo’s face fell and his blood ran cold.

That explained why the name on the business card seemed familiar.

* * *

As it turned out, Kuroo only had a day to get his affairs in order. The conference was on Wednesday, meaning he and Kodzuken would need to leave Tuesday in order to make it on time. Nekomata-sensei wanted them to drive rather than take the shinkansen in order to leave less of a footprint, as well as to have more freedom in their travels. The last thing they wanted was for Minamoto-san to figure out what happened while they were still on the train. There would no doubt be police waiting for them at the Tokyo station.

That left Kuroo Monday to inform Mame he had a family emergency and would be gone until Friday, find the driver’s license he used twice a year in his junk drawer, and take the train to Johzenji territory to borrow a car as a favor.

None of the cars that Johzenji loaned out could really be considered ‘nice’, but it certainly wasn’t bad – a silver 2008 Toyota Camry with too-clean seats. The exterior had mud caked to nearly every visible surface – where could someone even find that much mud in urban Tokyo? – so apparently a car wash was also on Kuroo’s pre-trip agenda.

Then, he needed to pack. This was always his least favorite part of jobs. Deciding what to wear was always hard when he had no idea what type of vibe, say, a professional textile investor conference, gave off. After a few texts to the Nekoma group chat and Akaashi, of all people, he decided on a black-tie suit. He inwardly groaned as he dug through his closet for all the pieces. Wearing a full suit on a job was fun the first time, but quickly became tiring. And itchy.

He sent a text to Bokuto asking him to feed Hime the next few days, to which he received an enthusiastic yes, and wrote out extensive directions on how to do so. Even though he had done it many times before, and even though Kuroo was fairly sure Akaashi would be the one to actually feed the cat while Bokuto just played with her, it never hurt to be thorough with Bokuto.

By the time his errands were done for the day, it was already late – eleven o’clock at night late. Not nearly enough time to tackle the main anxiety on his mind - the fact that he was ninety percent sure that he was going to show up to the meeting spot today and see Kenma sitting there waiting for him. Kenma. Who was a customer at his coffee shop. Who he went on a date with two days ago. Who had never mentioned being involved with Nekoma or crime.

Kuroo had found the business card where he had drunkenly deposited it on his nightstand. He had stared at it, read the lettering over and over. It never changed. It definitely, one hundred percent read _Kodzuken_.

Similar to his first attempts, there were absolutely no traces of the name anywhere that Kuroo could find on the internet. It felt too unique of a name for it to be a coincidence.

It kind of made sense. Kenma said he did “freelance IT stuff”. Technically, that’s what Kodzuken was doing.

Kuroo groaned. Kenma had to know who he was meeting tomorrow. Nekomata-sensei had to have told him his name, maybe even shown a picture, and if Kenma was anything it wasn’t dumb. How long had Kenma known? _Had_ Kenma known? Was this the reason he agreed to go on a date with him? What if Kenma really didn’t know and then was no longer interested after this? _Technically_ , Kuroo had made a lie by omission by neglecting to tell him he was a criminal. Although, _technically_ , Kenma didn’t tell him either.

It was clear that Kenma wanted to remain anonymous, with the fake name and all. What if he ran after seeing Kuroo?

Kuroo stared hard at his phone sitting next to him on the couch. Why hadn’t he texted him, if he’d known? Was this a game to see how long it would take Kuroo to figure it out? Was he too awkward to text first about it? Should Kuroo text first?

Kuroo groaned audibly and picked up his phone. He scrolled through the contacts before hitting the call button next to ‘bo’.

_Ring. Ring. Ring. “Hello! Thanks for calling the one and only Bokuto Koutarou, unfortunately I’m out-“_

Kuroo groaned again and threw his phone down onto the couch. Hime jumped and mewled in surprise from across the room. “Sorry, Hime,” he grumbled.

Bokuto was probably out on a job right now. He couldn’t consult Nekoma about it without risking Kenma’s identity getting out, and Bokuto was the only person outside of their team that he trusted with this type of thing. Meaning, no guidance on how to handle this clusterfuck of a situation.

Kuroo rubbed his temples and clicked on the T.V. Ironically, a documentary about the manufacturing of textiles was playing. He watched it distantly, vowing that he would text Kenma after he watched it for a bit and calmed down, if only to make tomorrow less awkward.

* * *

Kuroo woke up with a start to Hime on his chest, pawing at his hair and meowing loudly.

He lightly removed her and rubbed his eyes, noting it was now light outside. Shit, he thought, looking at the T.V. which was still on, he fell asleep and never texted Kenma.

He redialed Bokuto’s number as he went to feed Hime, once again reaching his voicemail. He was probably asleep following work last night, meaning once again Kuroo was forced to handle today on his own.

A few hours later, at around noon, Kuroo found himself parked outside of an apartment complex in West Tokyo. It was an expensive, Western-looking building with plenty of windows. Nekomata-sensei had sent him Kodzuken’s address in order to avoid a train ride with luggage and computer parts.

Kuroo’s stomach was in knots. He stared unwaveringly at the door, waiting for the mop of half blonde hair that he was nearly certain would walk through at any moment. His brain had tried and failed to picture the scenario in his head, but it fizzled out with nerves each time he tried. So, if Kenma really did walk to his car in the next few minutes, Kuroo had absolutely no idea what to do or say.

Of course, there was the possibility that this was all just a crazy coincidence and some completely unknown person would exit the building. In that case, Kuroo supposed it was a very good thing that he didn’t text-

He was startled out of his train of thought by a quiet knock on his passenger side window. He really needed to stop zoning out like that. It distracted him from important things. Like Kenma, who was standing outside his car with wide eyes and a large duffel bag over each shoulder.

Kuroo sighed and internally cursed whatever god made this happen before clicking the unlock button and stepping out of the car to help Kenma with his bags.

“Kuro?” Kenma quietly intoned, unmoving. His wide, golden eyes hadn’t left Kuroo. _He must not have known, then,_ he thought. Or maybe he, like Kuroo, was in a lot of denial.

“Kodzuken?” Kuroo asked, slowly stepping around to the other side and opening the backseat door, making sure to keep his eyes on Kenma the whole time.

Kenma stayed silent and unmoving for a good five seconds before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Kuroo nodded back. This was really happening, then. “Do you, uh, need help with your bags?”

Kenma quietly spoke, his face red. He refused to meet Kuroo’s eyes. “That’s alright. Thank you.”

He carefully placed the two duffel bags in the back and climbed into the passenger seat.

Kuroo stepped back into the driver’s seat and buckled his seat belt. Kenma looked uncomfortably tense next to him, hands balled into fists on top of his jeans, neck hunched into his hoodie.

Kuroo took a deep breath. “To Kyoto,” he said weakly.

* * *

Normally, Kuroo liked driving. It was relaxing to be able to freely go where he wanted and it was methodical to follow the rules of the road. Even as a child, he loved to look out the window and watch the scenery go by.

He had driven from Tokyo to Kyoto once before, and while it was very long, it wasn’t a bad drive. The gradual change from urban sprawl, to countryside, to hilly roads, back to something somewhat urban was interesting and endearing. The vast majority of Tokyoites relied on the trains for travel, so seeing the country pass by through the slow-moving window of a car was almost magical for most.

On this day, however, the drive was not endearing. Kenma, from where he sat beside him, hadn’t moved an inch. He still sat straight as a stick, hands still balled up on top of his legs. Kuroo couldn’t even see his face, which was tactfully hidden from any sideways glances by the pieces of hair pulled out from his bun. Kuroo could hear his phone buzzing in his pocket occasionally, but the man-made no move to check it.

Kuroo had rotated through quite a few emotions. First, anxiety, that Kenma was in fact here and he knew Kuroo wasn’t honest with him about his occupation. Then, relief because if Kenma was a criminal he probably didn’t care too much that Kuroo was. Then, anxiety again because Kenma was still upset about something. Then, calmness because Kenma had to calm down eventually. Then, anxiety once more because what if Kuroo had done something else wrong to make him uncomfortable?

The cycle continued.

They sat in dead silence except for the occasional ticking of Kuroo’s turn signal until they reached Shizuoka Prefecture, a little over an hour into their journey.

_We need to talk to each other_ , Kuroo rationalized, at least because they were working together.

“Did you know?” Kuroo asked quietly.

“What?” Kenma was deathly quiet as his head whipped around to face Kuroo, eyes still very large and fearful. He looked like a cornered cat, slinking back, not wanting to fight but willing to if necessary.

“Did you know? That I worked with Nekoma?”

“No.” He looked back down to his lap. “At least, not until now.”

“Oh.” Kuroo gripped the steering wheel.

“I figured that it was just someone else named Kuroo.” Kenma was quiet for a second. “Did you know?”

“I figured it out,” Kuroo said as he quirked an eyebrow up, “Sunday? I think?”

Kenma’s hands balled tighter, skin going white where his nails dug in. “I shouldn’t have given you the business card.”

Kuroo shrugged. “I would have figured it out anyway when we went on this job.”

Kenma didn’t move.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Kuroo spoke, unsure what exactly provoked him to.

Kenma relaxed at that and turned to look at him like he had grown a second head.

“You weren’t sloppy.” Kuroo’s hands repositioned themselves on the steering wheel nervously. “I’m just saying.”

His heart was beating out of his chest.

Kenma was silent, but at least relaxed now.

Kuroo took that as a win.

* * *

By the time they arrived in Kyoto, nearly seven hours later, the sun had set and they were left with the stars to keep them company. The traffic had been nearly nonexistent as they entered the city, a rarity as far as Kuroo was concerned. They were both tired, resting in amicable silence after conversing about random things for most of the ride after they had settled their minor dispute. Even Shoyou, whose text messages Kenma had read aloud in a monotone voice as they were received, had stopped gracing them with unintentionally funny statements for the day. Kuroo tapped his fingers against the wheel, risking glances at Kenma, whose head was resting against the window, every so often.

The hotel that Nekoma had arranged for them to stay in pulled no punches. Kuroo let out a low whistle as a long, short, elegant building on the riverfront with an obscene amount of windows came into view. “Nekomata-sensei must really be trying to impress you.”

Kenma’s eyes were wide beside him. “We’re staying here?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo gave him a sidelong glance as he followed the sign for valet parking. “Sensei said you’ve never worked with a team before now?”

Kenma shook his head, eyes still glued to the very extravagant and clearly expensive building.

“Well, this is one of the perks. More funds, more opportunities to stay at the,” he put on his impression of a snobby voice, “ _Ritz-Carlton Kyoto.”_

Kenma snorted. Kuroo’s heart soared at that.

He finally pulled the car to the valet service and spoke to the attendant. Kenma slowly got out of the passenger’s seat, twisting into a slight stretch before opening the back seat and grabbing his duffel bags from where they sat.

Kuroo, having given the attendant his (fake and Nekoma-assigned) information, grabbed his suit bag and suitcase out of the car before shutting the door behind him and walking towards the entrance. It only took one pace for him to realize that Kenma wasn’t following.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and concerned.

Kenma was silent for a moment, eyes unwavering from the building as if it were an enemy that needed to be defeated. “I’ve never been to a hotel this nice.”

“Me neither,” Kuroo smirked. “Let’s go drink all their champagne.”

Kenma gazed into his eyes, face relaxing ever so slightly at the joke. It made Kuroo shiver despite being warm under his coat.

Kenma walked forward towards the building, leaving Kuroo in his wake this time.

* * *

As it turned out, their room was just as nice as the exterior of the building. Two queen beds fitted with spotless white sheets, a long and smooth grey table with a bottle of champagne on it, and a large wall-mounted T.V. were all present. The bathroom was beautiful, with a sleek black granite sink and a walk-in shower. There was also a balcony fitted with string lights, chairs, and a table home to a rather well-kept bonsai tree. It overlooked the river next to the hotel. It was called Komogawa, if Kuroo’s limited Kyoto knowledge served correct.

Kuroo threw his luggage onto the bed closest to the door and grabbed the bottle of champagne out of its bed of ice, pointing it towards Kenma, who was still awkwardly standing in the doorway. “Told you. Champagne. Come put your bags down and we can crack this open.”

“I need to prepare for tomorrow.” He apprehensively walked forward and shouldered his duffel bags down onto the other bed.

“Afterwards, then. Or, I don’t mean to pressure you, it’s fine-“

“I never said you were pressuring me.” Kenma slowly unzipped a bag and pulled out various pieces of electronics and lots of wires. “I didn’t say no, either. Don’t you have anything to do for tomorrow?”

“Not really. Most of it will be on the fly. I’ll have you in my ear to help, too.” Kuroo flopped onto the bed, sinking into the soft cushion, and checked his phone. An unreasonable number of concerned texts from Bokuto, followed by one from Akaashi asking him to please answer so his worried friend didn’t drive to Kyoto himself. There were a few from various Nekoma members as well, sending their well wishes.

“So I’ll be doing all the hard work?” Kenma was arranging his computer pieces on the grey table, carefully working around the bottle of champagne that Kuroo had set back down. 

“Acting and manipulating is hard work.” Kuroo looked up from his text to Bokuto, fake pouting.

Kenma grumbled something under his breath that Kuroo didn’t catch and kept setting up his equipment. Kuroo grinned and sat up, finishing his text. Kenma was cute when he was irritated.

“So how long until you’re done, Kenma?” Kuroo leered, knowing he was probably being a bit annoying.

“Since you asked? All night, Kuro.” Kenma, seemingly satisfied with where he had plugged all of his wires, sat down onto one of the chairs and began typing on his laptop.

“Don’t make me break into the champagne by myself, Kenma. You can either drink with me and make it more tolerable, or deal with me while sober,” Kuroo threatened.

“You’re annoying,” Kenma deadpanned.

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

Kuroo blinked and grinned once again. “Am not. I’m just in coworker mode now, not date mode.”

“Do you drink champagne with all your coworkers?” Kenma’s tone was flat.

"Nope,” Kuroo popped the ‘p’.

Kenma sighed. “I’m finishing setting up my wifi modem right now. Then I just need to calibrate our earpieces and do some last-minute research.”

Kuroo whooped and flopped back down onto the bed, turning on the T.V. to watch while he waited.

“You’ll be fixing your hair before tomorrow, right?” Kenma spoke up after twenty minutes, not even looking up from an earpiece which he was poking.

Kuroo laughed, hyena-like. “Very funny. I clean up good, Kenma. You’ll see.”

Kenma hummed and went back to work.

He was also cute when he was concentrating, Kuroo found out. It made him feel dizzy.

“I’m done,” Kenma sighed, shutting his laptop.

Kuroo shot up from where he was laying on the bed, a wicked smile on his face. “Champagne time?”

Kenma nodded, albeit a bit hesitant.

Kuroo grabbed the bottle and the two glasses next to it. “You never struck me as the drinking type. Want to pop it?”

Kenma shook his head. “You definitely do. And no thank you.”

“Touche,” Kuroo laughed, uncorking the champagne. It came out with a satisfying pop. Kuroo pretended not to notice Kenma staring as his arms twisted the bottle.

“Not very much for me, please,” Kenma said quietly.

Kuroo nodded, filling his glass up to about a third of the way before handing it over. He filled his own with a similar amount. No need to get trashed in front of a guy he was very much still into. And besides, he still had work tomorrow.

“To the downfall of Ito Enterprises,” Kuroo cheered in a fake toast.

Kenma rolled his eyes at the cheesiness and took a tentative sip. “This is very nice champagne,” Kenma said, eyebrows encroaching on his hairline.

Kuroo took a sip. “It really is,” he said, impressed. Smooth, bubbly, and sweet. He inwardly cringed as he remembered all the fizz would disappear from the bottle overnight since they couldn’t reseal it, effectively wasting it.

Kenma sat onto his bed, pulling his legs into a criss-cross pattern, looking towards the T.V.

Kuroo glanced from the chairs at the table, to Kenma, to his own bed, before deciding on the latter. He glanced toward the T.V. It was playing some infomercial for volleyball shoes with a salesman who looked oddly like an otter.

He sat on his own bed, both of them awkwardly pretending to be actually invested in the infomercial, sipping on their champagne, before Kenma spoke up. “You can sit with me, you know.”

“Really?” Kuroo looked towards him, trying and failing to hide the fact that he was mildly shocked.

“Yeah. We went on a date.” He looked towards the carpet. “And we’d just be sitting on the same bed.”

Kuroo nodded and steeled himself before standing up and crossing the small gap in between the beds. “Just sitting on the same bed.”

He sat down, lightly, politely, making sure to keep a respectable distance from Kenma. They both took a sip of their champagne and watched the otter man continue to talk about his shoes.

* * *

Kenma rolled around next to him on the bed, face red, wheezing from laughter. “An otter?” he managed to choke out.

“Yes,” Kuroo cackled, knowing he wasn’t faring much better, cheeks probably very flushed and grin very sloppy. He had forgotten that champagne was like this, that even small amounts could make a person downright giggly. He’s pretty sure it had something to do with the bubbles. “Look at him. The hair. The mustache. _The eyes._ ” 

Kenma craned his neck to look at the T.V. once more before falling back down in laughter as soon as they showed the man again.

Kuroo flopped down too, still giggling at not only the situation but how damn cute Kenma was being. Kenma took this opportunity to roll closer and bury his face into Kuroo’s side. “He really does,” Kenma said, chest still heaving.

Kuroo suddenly went very still, though his heart didn’t get the memo as it continued to beat alarmingly fast. He wondered if Kenma could hear it, from where he was pressed to Kuroo’s side, right next to his chest.

“What?” Kenma asked, still giggling, looking up slowly towards Kuroo slowly. “Why’d you-“ Kenma met his eyes and at once realized his mistake, nearly jumping to the other side of the bed. “Sorry,” he murmured, face somehow even redder than before.

Kuroo shook his head. He remembered why he hated bubbly drinks, now. They brought you up just enough to act tipsy, but it was precarious, and the façade shattered into painful pieces at the slightest provocation. “It’s fine.”

_What would Bokuto do?_ He thought in a panic as he looked at Kenma, who was laying on the opposite side of the bed, eyes clenched shut and looking very anxious. _Emo mode, probably._ Once again, unhelpful.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Kuroo said quietly, standing up and letting the mattress decompress silently.

He crossed the room, closed the door, and took a deep breath. This day had been so _long._ Sometimes, he and Kenma had great chemistry. Other times, like this one, it was like they were live wires that sparked violently at the slightest contact. The thing was, Kuroo was very confident Kenma had a thing for him and vice versa. So, was his hesitancy due to anxiety or boundaries? If it was anxiety, maybe Kuroo should take the initiative, but then again, what if it wasn’t and Kuroo pushed him too far?

Kuroo sighed and splashed his face with some water, willing himself into complete soberness. Whether it was due to anxiety or any other reason, Kenma became uncomfortable when he touched him, and he should be cognizant of that.

He was Kuroo Tetsurou. He could do this. He could make it through this trip and still have things be alright with Kenma. Everything would be fine.

He took one final breath and opened the bathroom door. Kenma must have gotten up while Kuroo was in there because the lights in the room were now off. There were no computer or phone lights coming from Kenma’s bed, either. Kuroo quietly walked over to the nightstand where he knew his phone was and turned it on.

As he was setting his alarms for the next morning, Kenma spoke up quietly, making Kuroo nearly jump out of his skin. “Kuro?”

“Yeah?” he whispered back.

“You can get back into bed with me, you know.” Kenma was quiet, his tone unreadable.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m not trying to insinuate anything, I’m just-“

“It’s alright,” Kuroo ensured.

There was silence for a long moment before Kuroo set his phone back down and tentatively climbed into bed next to Kenma.

It was dark in the room, so dark, but he could hear Kenma breathing next to him, feel the warm air ghost across his nose. If Kenma couldn’t feel his heart beating before, he definitely could now, with how it was hammering against Kuroo’s rib cage.

“Kuro?” Kenma asked once again, somehow even quieter than before.

“Yeah?” Kuroo was not going to survive tonight, not if he were going to lay here so close to Kenma.

The room remained silent.

“Kenma?”

“I was just wondering,” Kuroo had to strain to hear him, “why you didn’t kiss me.”

At this point, Kuroo’s heart stopped. His brain short-circuited. His veins turned to ice. All higher thought processes ceased to function. “Whahmm?” he uttered, so caught off guard that actual words failed him.

“On the date,” Kenma clarified as if it weren’t already obvious.

_What would Bokuto_ _do_? His brain screamed, trying to tackle the situation. He would be honest, probably, because Bokuto was too good for this world. “I was nervous,” Kuroo confessed.

Kenma hummed. Silence. “Are you still?”

“Still what?”

“Nervous.”

It was Kuroo’s turn to be silent, now. He praised whatever higher power there was for the darkness in the room, so Kenma couldn’t see how red his face was. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Kenma mulled this over for a second. Kuroo could feel the breath from his nose slipping over his face. When did they get so close? “Why?”

“Kenma.” Kuroo gesticulated into the darkness. “You’re you. Of course I’d be nervous.”

"That doesn’t answer the question.” Kenma shifted next to him. Their bodies were impossibly close now. Kuroo could feel the heat radiating off of him. The soft fabric of Kenma’s sweatpants leg was touching his ankle.

_Honesty_ , he reminded himself, taking a deep breath. “You’re too important for me to mess things up with. I- I _like_ you, and I didn’t want to pressure you, or- or- be rude, or-“

Kuroo never got the chance to finish his sentence as a pair of lips cut him off. Chapped yet delicate at the same time, a contrast of abrasive and soft, just like the rest of Kenma. Kuroo involuntarily gasped into Kenma’s mouth, but he didn’t let his shock paralyze him long before reaching up to delicately caress Kenma’s cheek. He tucked his hair behind his ear as the kiss deepened, Kuroo licking Kenma’s bottom lip.

Kenma opened his mouth, moaning ever so quietly into Kuroo. His other hand, which was running along Kenma’s side, tightened into a grip at that. A heat pooled in his gut, and Kuroo pulled away, frenzied and suddenly awake. Kuroo was a tight wire that only Kenma could loosen. He heard Kenma’s heavy breaths next to him.

He felt Kenma’s hands wrap around the back of his head, pulling him back in. Kuroo obliged, kissing him deeply, hands tracing the length of his sleek form.

He really couldn’t believe this was happening. He was in Kyoto, kissing Kenma in a bed in the fucking Ritz-Carlton. He peeked an eye open to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, or dreaming, and there Kenma was, gorgeous as always. He sighed into his mouth, long and content.

Kenma was the first to pull away, leaving Kuroo dizzy and melted. The contentedness in his chest was a new thing for him. He was certain that a part of him would always be here, in this bed, even for years to come.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Kenma’s golden eyes were glowing in the moonlight, trained on Kuroo and intense as ever, but it felt different now. They saw each other now; it wasn’t just one of them observing the other.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Finding comfortable silence with someone was something that was hard to come by.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Kuroo traced doodles with his fingers into Kenma’s skin. He shivered beneath him.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Kenma’s eyes drooped and his breathing evened out even more.

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

Kuroo drifted off into sleep, too, soon, his last memory being Kenma’s weight shifting to lay against his chest.

He felt golden. And he would for a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> i hc that kenma actively tries to help other ppl when they have anxiety bc he knows what its like and you cant change my mind
> 
> bokuto/kuroo brotp supremacy
> 
> KIZUO is based off of ramensan deluxe in chicago. its a great restaurant if you're ever in the area
> 
> come hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sugaxyy)


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